


Shore Up

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Drinking, Drugs, Forced Prostitution, Hurt Lance (Voltron), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Past Character Death, Past Underage Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Sad Lance (Voltron), klangst, lotor is evil, the opposite of slow burn, what is that called idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In an effort to recruit Keith, a prominent member of the Blade of Marmora, Lotor, second-in-command of the Galra Empire, uses his best worker to seduce and sway him. Lance knows how these things work, knows that failure is not an option. He knows how to get under people's skin, how to make them open up to him—it's why he's the best at what he does. But what Lotor wants of Keith is more than even Lance can spin, so he has to choose between saving Keith and his family and saving himself. Read the warnings!





	Shore Up

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have a midterm in 12 hours hahaha I've been writing this for like 6 hours straight kill me

His shift had only just started, but Lance was already exhausted. He’d had a particularly rough day, but his boss never was one to care about an employee’s personal well-being; they’d only be able to call off if they were damn near hacking up a lung, and that was not out of concern for their health, but simply for the comfort of the club's patrons.

At least he was only tending to guests on the floor, meaning he only had to smile and flirt while serving drinks, nothing too intimate. He figured it was because he’d more than filled his quota the previous day and made quite the impression on one of his boss’s new business partners. For his hard work, Lotor had “rewarded” him in what he thought was a generous fashion, though Lance would’ve much preferred money to any physical comfort Lotor offered. Still, he figured that any minute now, Lotor would send him a small gift as a follow-up: those were what he loved, the boxes bearing cash, jewels, drugs, or some combination of the three.

Unfortunately, anything he got he’d have to sell since his bike had decided to break down on his way into work that morning. He’d pushed it a few blocks to the nearest mechanic, who agreed to store it… for a price. Lance was used to that kind of transaction, however, so he hadn’t minded retreating with the owner to the back room for a few minutes. He’d been ticked that the man said his services were only worth the price of the storage, not for actually repairing it, but he didn’t want to point out the unfair treatment to the much burlier man.

He was understandably late for work, which earned him a few snarky comments from some of his coworkers. Lance was a bit spoiled in the workplace, everyone knew it, and so they tended to take out their anger on him, especially whenever he did something that would get any other worker fired. In addition, he’d already suffered a number of unsolicited gropes and derogatory addresses from some rowdier patrons, which, given his morning, just made him even more irritable.

So, he was happy when one of Lotor’s assistants walked toward him. He frowned on seeing that the woman didn’t have any bag or box on her.

“Lance,” she smiled, a bounce in her step. “How’s it going?”

“My life is shit. But, you know that already, Ezor,” he smiled. She was one of his favorite people in the casino, though he only ever saw her in her capacity as a middleman between him and Lotor. He held out his hands. “Gimme.”

“Sorry, boo,” she crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “Gift’s a bit delayed for the day.”

He groaned. “That’s not fair! I need some money by tonight, my bike broke down!”

She shook her head. “Why don’t you tell Lotor this? I’m sure he’ll front you some money.”

He frowned. “I don’t like being in debt.” Last time that had happened—well, he was still facing the consequences for it, wasn’t he, working where he was for the son of the man who’d fucked him over.

“I see. Well, you should be able to get your money tonight, I think, so don’t trouble yourself! And, you’ll be here pretty late, so I can give you a ride home.”

He smiled—Ezor was so nice. Hard to believe she was dating one of Lotor’s meanest agents, Acxa, given their contrary temperaments. “Only if it’s really no trouble for you.”

“Of course! You know how to get a hold of me.” She clapped her hands together. “Anyway, before you get your money, you’re needed upstairs.”

“Oh,” he deflated. “What’s up?”

“There’s a new guy up there, real rich. Part of a powerful family that Lotor's trying to schmooze.”

“No one else could do it?” he whined.

“Nope! He doesn’t seem all that interested in any of the girls.”

“We have other guys besides me,” he continued. He knew he shouldn’t be so argumentative, but he was tired. Sighing, he stepped out from behind his bar. “I’m not in the best mood.”

She passed his a small vial of pink powder. He accepted it gratefully, popping the corked top and inhaling the viscous fumes with a loud snort before shutting it. He choked, then cleared his throat. Pupils dilated, a huge grin on his face, he cheered. “Shit, that’s nice!”

She laughed. “Feel better?”

“Much! Let me just get changed then I’ll try my hand at this mystery man.”

“Great! I’ll meet you outside your room to point him out.”

 

* * *

 

Lance watched his current mark like a hawk, sipping at a weak cocktail in order to blend in. The man was nothing impressive, in his opinion. Human, it seemed, which may have helped explain why he wasn’t biting at the other aliens in the room. Their species was seen as one of the most sexually conservative in the universe, with most of them flat-out refusing any unions with extraterrestrials.

He was dressed rather simply, not betraying his wealth. Of course, the stack of chips in front of him as well as his signet ring offered a contrasting narrative from his general demeanor, which was, simply put, crude. Most patrons on the upper levels were familiar with one another, either through business or politics or family. As such, it was always a social experience: guests would speak on the weather, or speak in code about certain deals, or compliment the other’s date for the night. First, he didn’t have a date, and second, he refused to talk to anyone, he was too focused on the game.

Lance knew that he probably wasn’t actually as lucky as his chips suggested. More likely than not, Lotor had told the dealer to slip in a few winning hands for him so he’d be in a better mood. But, even as he scooched his chips closer to his body, another victory “earned”, his scowl wouldn’t fade.

Keith Kogane was his name, though Lance had never heard it before. He’d heard of his brother, Takashi Shirogane, which meant Keith was just as intimately tied up with the Blade of Marmora, a group who often ran contrary to Lotor’s operations. He was surprised that Lotor was trying to win Keith’s favor, then, since he rarely ever showed anything less than spite for the Blade. Keith wasn’t even one of the organization’s leaders, too, so it’s not like throwing Lance at him would do anything good, he thought.

Still, it wasn’t his place to question Lotor’s motivations, and he had a check to earn. Setting down his drink, he bid adieu to Ezor who chose to sit back at their shared table and watch the show. She’d already bet against him, pegging Keith as the prudish type. It wasn’t a small sum she’d wagered, either, so he was set on getting both his earnings.

He was at the table a few seconds later, a few of the patrons and the dealer recognizing him.

“Lance,” a jewel-covered woman held out her hand to him. Keith turned at the commotion, annoyed that the dealer had stopped to watch them as well. “It’s been too long.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it, her slimy skin coating his lips. Knowing just how rude it was on her planet to wipe off another’s secretions, he instead licked it up with his tongue. “Breg, you look ravishing as always.”

She giggled, batting away his hand. “Oh, stop it, you.”

“Where’s Igtan?” he asked.

“He caught a bug and is stuck at home, so I'm by my lonesome tonight.”

He winked. “I could fix that.”

A barking laugh. “If I were a few centapheebs younger, then maybe I’d consider it.”

Keith cleared his throat. “Are you done?”

Lance glanced at him, raising a brow. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Someone who’s trying to win.”

He chuckled. “Is that right?” He slipped onto the seat next to Keith, smirking at him. “Cocky, aren’t we?”

The other guests could gather Lance’s ploy, so they only chuckled and fell into their side conversations.

“I'm not cocky; it’s a fact that I’m winning,” Keith said simply, gesturing to his chips.

Lance eyed the pile with little interest. “That pocket change may be enough to buy you a decent haircut.”

Keith flushed. “Excuse me?” he yelled.

Lance reached toward his face, catching a lock between his thumb and index finger even as Keith tried to shirk away.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Lance tilted his head, humming. He dropped his hand’s full weight onto Keith’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Wow, you’re tense. You should relax a bit.”

Keith turned aside, clearly not expecting anyone to be so forward and touchy with him. “Are you going to play, or not?”

He smirked, trailing his finger down Keith’s arm. “Depends on what we’re playing.”

Keith shivered. On Lance’s other side, Breg placed some of her own chips in front of Lance. “Well,” she smiled at the dealer. “He’s in!” He placed six cards in front of Lance, flipping the two center cards face up.

He looked at his deal and pouted. Keith chuckled beside him. “Looks like my winning streak will continue, then.”

Lance met his stare, a coy smile on his face. “Counting your chickens a bit early, aren’t you?” He placed half of his allotted chips in the center. Berg laughed, matching the bet. Another guest did the same, then another. It was Keith’s turn. He eyed the sum, then called, his own starting hand looking much better than Lance’s—better than the rest of the player's, even.

The dealer flipped his outside cards, and everyone but Lance winced—he had a good hand. He looked at Lance, tapping the top of his deck. “Draw or flip?” Two more taps. Lance smiled.

“It’s bad luck not to show faith in your hand, I say. I’ll flip.” His two outer cards were turned, and he fought the urge to rip the dealer’s throat out. He chuckled as Keith rolled his eyes. “All part of the plan.”

Keith and Breg drew, one guest flipped, and another dropped out.

It was time to bet again, and Lance had no choice. He put the rest of his chips in, making eye contact with Keith all the while.

“Are you stupid or something?” Keith scoffed. “Your hand is shit”

It truly was. “What can I say, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy.” He smiled. He eyed Keith’s hand which, while decent, wasn’t a match for the house.

“I drop,” Breg said. After a bit of grumbling, so did her neighbor. Keith would’ve been wise to drop, but one look at Lance’s challenging face and he raised the bet.

The dealer flipped his left most remaining card. Keith cursed, and Lance laughed uneasily.

“Flip or draw?” the dealer asked Lance. He rolled his left shoulder, stretching.

“Flip,” he turned to Keith. “Left, for the beauty here on my left.”

“And you, sir?”

“Draw,” Keith said, more focused on the game to get too flustered by Lance’s flirting.

The dealer handed him his card. He turned his and Lance’s at the same time.

Lance compared the hands, then threw up his arms and cheered. “Hell ya!” He looked at Keith, sticking his tongue out. “Suck on that, mullet!”

He balked. Lance’s last card, the only one of its kind in the deck of 800 cards, granted him one of the most elusive hands that beat out nearly every other. The dealer pushed the pot toward Lance, who settled into his seat.

“Another. Unless you’re scared?” he smirked at Keith.

The man glared. “You’re on.”

“How about an easy wager?”

“What is it?” Keith eyed him with suspicion.

“Nothing too risky, don’t look at me like that! Loser has to buy the winner a drink each game.”

Keith shrugged. “Fine.”

Lance won the next two games, Keith the next, then Berg went on a three game streak.

His pot was slowly diminishing, so he decided to move things along. He waved over a waitress, one of his peers, and handed her a large chip.

“A bottle of your finest champagne, if you could.”

Keith raised a brow. “Buying me my next drink already?”

He laughed. “Oh no, this is my celebration bottle. I’ll share some with you since you’ll find yourself a bit lacking in funds after this round.”

“Running away so soon?”

He pouted. “It’s getting late, and I was hoping to head upstairs; it's where all the dancing happens.”

“This is also a nightclub?”

“You’re a total newbie, aren’t you? It’s one of the most exclusive joints this planet has to offer!”

Keith grunted, not seeming to care. “Last game, then?”

“Winner takes all,” Lance nodded. The waitress returned with his bottle, pouring some of it into a glass. He handed the glass to Keith with a smile, then took the bottle for himself. “To lady luck,” he said, clinking them together.

“May the best man win.”

As it was, the best woman won, Berg successfully breaking the tension of their big moment. Still, Lance laughed through it all, patting Keith on the back and saying he’d had fun.

“You had a better ending hand, so I guess you won technically,” Lance shrugged. He shot a wink at the dealer, thanking him for his help. He didn’t want to win it all—Keith seemed the type to take kindly to a challenge, but not to a defeat.

Keith puffed up at that. “Then you owe me another drink.”

“Guess you’re right.” He took a sip of his champagne, noticing the way Keith’s eyes stared at his Adam’s apple. He finished with a smile, and then placed his hand on the back of Keith’s neck. The man watched him as he leaned forward, his eyes shutting as he ghosted over his lips.

Lance pressed their lips together, waiting for a few seconds for Keith to press back. He did, and with vigor, forcing Lance’s lips to part. He pushed in response, forcing some residual champagne into Keith’s mouth. Keith swallowed through the kiss, though a few drops fell between them.

Lance pulled away, taking another quick swig. “To the club?” he smiled prettily.

Keith nodded, taking his hand and following him to the elevator.

Breg chuckled, stacking her chips and shaking her head. “Poor boy,” she muttered.

The dealer nodded.

Despite the presence of an attendant in the elevator, Lance wasn’t shy about wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders, drawing him against his side and pressing a deep, languid kiss to his lips. Keith threw his arms around Lance’s neck, fighting to take control of their embrace. Lance chuckled around his mouth, then gasped when Keith yanked at his hair. His head fell back and Keith quickly licked a striped over his throat, retracing over his path teasingly with his teeth.

The door opened with a ding, but the attendant allowed them a moment to notice. Lance knew it wouldn’t do him any good if Lotor didn’t actually see him doing his job, so he tapped Keith’s cheek.

“Huh?” he pulled away, appearing completely out of it. Lance wondered if maybe he wasn’t much of a drinker.

He pointed with his chin behind them, and Keith nodded in understanding. Placing his arm around Lance’s waist in a possessive manner, he led them down the hallway and toward where the pulsing music was coming from.

The bouncer looked at them, nodding at Lance. “Name?” she asked Keith.

“Keith Kogane,” Lance supplied. “I’m with him.”

She nodded, opening the door for them. Keith walked in, openly staring at the general splendor of the room as well as the number of bodies already pressed together on a packed dance floor. He failed to note that fact that he’d never actually introduced himself to Lance, and instead accepted his fate as Lance dragged them toward a VIP section.

Once past that bouncer, they fell onto a plush loveseat, Lance throwing his arm that still bore the champagne around the back of it and turning to look at Keith.

Keith blinked. Did he even know this man’s name? He really wasn’t the drinking type. “Hey,” he said simply.

Lance hummed, setting his free hand on Keith’s knee. “Hey,” he smiled.

He cleared his throat. “Um, so now what?”

Lance threw back his head and laughed. “Never been to a club?” Keith shook his head. “Oh, that’s cute.” He placed a quick kiss to Keith’s nose. “You’re cute.”

Keith reddened quickly, and Lance felt his chest flutter—what a cliché: bad boy on the outside but desperate for affection on the inside. Easy.

“Well,” Lance continued. “Usually, people come up here and drink, do some drugs, find someone they wanna fuck, dance for a bit, then go home to fuck. Or, if you’re rich and impatient enough, they have rooms just over there.” He pointed to the corner across from them, yet another bouncer posted in front of a purple glowing hallway. “But, how has someone like you avoided the party scene for so long?” he asked. “You’ve got money, and you’re pretty enough to get into some places for free, I bet.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Keith asked. God, why was he acting so dumb? He thought to himself. This… er… whatever his name was… was making him helpless. Shiro was right, alcohol was not his friend.

Lance had just said it since it was a natural thing to say in his situation, but he decided to actually check Keith out. His hair was a mess, suit not the right style to flatter what he was sure was a fit body underneath, he didn’t even try to put on makeup, for heaven’s sake! But, he supposed he actually was kind of attractive in a fresh, natural way.

“Very,” he replied, delighting in the way Keith turned away to avoid revealing his blush—he failed. “No club experience, but you’re a damn good Veercer player. What’s up with that?”

“I used to play a lot growing up. Just for fun.”

Lance chuckled. “That’s sweet. With your family?”

Keith’s face fell. “Yeah…”

Sensing the tension, Lance chose to change the subject. “How did the rest of my list sound to you? Drinking and dancing?”

“Oh, well, I never really drink. Or dance. My brother’s a bit protective and doesn’t let me out much.” He was still frowning, and Lance figured family wasn’t a safe topic.

Lance grabbed him by the chin, not liking the somber look in Keith’s eyes. “Hey.”

“What?”

His response was to pull Keith into a kiss—he was a big fan of distracting as a tactic. He had his fair share of lonely clients who spent half their time together crying over some emotional hang-ups, and he didn’t want it to be that way with Keith who, again, he actually thought was cute.

Keith kissed back with less heat than before—a shame really. Lance slipped his tongue in while squeezing his hand on Keith’s thigh. The man jumped at the touch, then got a bit more into the kiss. Lance prayed that he wasn’t about to fuck a kid, because damn was Keith looking inexperienced. Another squeeze, and then he moved, straddling Keith’s lap. Keith’s hands hovered over his back, unsure, before he settled them lightly on his hips.

He pulled away, taking in Keith’s disheveled face. “Keith,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

Lance nodded—thank quiznak. “Look, not to be too forward or anything, but you seem a little green…” he trailed off, pouting.

Keith tensed—did he look sick? “What?”

“Green as in young. Like you don’t know what you’re doing.” He looked down at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m not trying to get fucked by a virgin.”

Take the bait, take the bait, take the bait, Lance chanted in his head.

Keith’s mouth fell. With a growl, he tightened his grip, rising from the chair. Lance squeaked, struggling to hold on, but it was hardly necessary as Keith had him under control. He shoved Lance’s back against the nearest wall, hand immediately cupping the front of his pants. Lance moaned, bucking forward, and Keith latched onto his throat with his teeth.

“Fuck!” he cried out. Keith was weird, Lance noted. Talk about a transition.

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Keith whispered against his ear huskily. “I know what I’m doing.”

Lance regained his composure, smirking at him. “Is that right?” sniffing, he turned aside.

Honestly, Keith had been looking forward to them slowing down for a spell, at least until he sobered up some. Hook-ups were what he was used to, admittedly, but he’d kinda liked how Lance was meeting him head on with everything, liked how he wasn’t afraid of him because of his family. He wouldn't be so opposed to something more than a quick fuck. He wondered if Lance even knew just who he was?

“It is,” Keith responded.

“Then prove it,” Lance smirked.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later found them redressed and relaxing another floor up, sitting in a lounge for only the most distinguished of guests, Lance had explained.

They’d fucked, of course, and it was one of the best experiences Keith had had. Lance had seemed to enjoy it profusely too, with the way he was crying out and clawing anything within reach, be it Keith or the bed.

Lance thought it was probably top ten, maybe top twenty—though not because it was bad, by any means.

Keith’s fiery temperament had returned, and Lance was regretting how much makeup he’d have to use to cover up the marks during his next shift. As it was, Keith got a hungry look in his eyes on seeing them, so when they’d left the private rooms for the next lounge, he’d elected to keep his shirt open so everyone else could see them, which certainly inflated Keith’s ego.

Their conversation was light, mainly consisting of innuendos and teasing. Now that Keith had regained some confidence around him, Lance was finding himself growing a bit annoyed—how one person could be so angry at everyone and everything was beyond him. Hell, he had his shitty situation but he didn’t take it out on too many people. But Keith, he was a piece of work. Misplaced aggression, attachment issues, possessive nature, and a growing sense of entitlement, to name a few. It was no wonder that he wasn’t the heir to the Blade empire. Someone so impulsive yet completely unaware of social norms would run any organization into the ground.

Lance had brought him upstairs with the excuse of getting to know each other better, but he was really there so that Lotor could see Keith and him together—he needed that money, dammit. Keith wasn’t the most talkative person, however, preferring to draw Lance into unnecessarily sloppy kisses while ignoring anyone else present, so at least he didn’t have to worry about revealing too much about himself. He had a feeling that Keith wouldn’t take too kindly to finding out that he’d been set-up, Lotor having thrown Lance at him in a weird gesture of friendship as well as placation.

Lotor made his way toward them about an hour after they’d arrived. He stopped right in front of the couple, clearing his throat.

Keith drew his attention away from Lance’s neck with a glare. “What?” he snapped. He seemed to realize just who he was talking to, however, and cleared his throat. “Oh, Lotor. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Is that so?” he hummed. “Even though it is my club.” He nodded toward Lance. “You’ve a lovely date.”

Keith’s grip on him tightened, and though Lance was already sitting on his lap, he was forced even closer. “Thank you,” Keith said, remembering his manners.

“I’m honored that you chose to spend the evening here,” Lotor continued. “Will you be here for long?”

“Just tonight and the next. Needed to blow off some steam.”

“Well, you picked the right place for it,” he smiled. “I wonder if you might wish to join me for brunch tomorrow morning.”

Keith looked at the man in his lap; he knew to reject Lotor would be a poor idea, but he also wasn’t sure yet where Lance was going to stay for the night.

Lance patted his cheek. “Go ahead. I have to go home and water my plants soon anyway.”

“Okay,” he nodded. Hesitating, he placed his hand over Lance’s, thumb circling over his digits. “Will I see you again?”

“Lance is welcome to join us after brunch,” Lotor said. “He can meet us in the rooftop gardens at two.”

He smiled down at Keith. “I’ll see you at two, then, Keith.” He placed a lasting, open-mouthed kiss to Keith’s lips before sliding off of his lap. Turning he gave Lotor a wink. “Thank you so much for your generosity, sir.”

Lotor took his hand in his, kissing the back of it. “I hope you enjoyed your visit today.” He looked his eyes for a second longer than Keith liked, judging by his tensed posture, then dropped his hand. “As a thanks for your continued patronage, you’ll find a parting gift for you with the valet.”

He cheered internally, then glanced back at Keith. He threw up a peace sign. “Try not to miss me too much, mullet.”

“Why you little—“ he started, then stopped, a fond look on his face. “See you later, Lance.”

Lance made his way through the lounge. When he knew he was out of view of Keith, he stepped into the service corridor to make use of the private elevator. He stepped inside and selected the button for the first floor, leaning against the back wall with a heavy sigh. Buttoning up his shirt in an effort to hide at least some of his bruises, he only hoped that Lotor had been generous. If not, he would have to make another “payment” to that perverted mechanic, and he was honestly so weary of being touched.

It would be one thing if someone would be gentle every once in a while, but no one ever was. He knew he’d been the one to prompt Keith to get a bit rougher, but that was part of the job. If these big men wanted soft, wanted intimacy, they wouldn’t be picking up random people in the club. Too much care and concern only led to hurt feelings, which led to harsher treatment and people complaining to Lotor, which was never good for Lance.

It was better this way. As much as he’d like one night spent with a soft, non-expectant touch, that wasn’t his life—for now, hopefully.

He found Ezor under the front carport, sitting in her two-man cruiser. He knocked on the side door and she opened it with the press of a button.

“Gimme,” he said, holding out his hand.

“The bet money and Lotor’s gift are in the envelope.”

“An envelope?” he asked. He only hoped that meant cash. Slipping onto his seat, he opened the envelope. Ezor’s check was there, but other than that, nothing. “The hell is this?”

She looked over into the paper, then frowned. “Shit, that’s shitty. I’m sorry. I know you needed this.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed. “Your stuff is enough for a down payment for repairing my bike, at least.”

“Maybe you’ll get it after Keith is gone?” she asked. She started her pod, the levitation jets activating and raising them a few feet above the ground. After checking for traffic, she got back onto the road and made her way through the parking lot.

“I sure hope so. He looked happy with my work… he’s probably just being an ass.”

“He does that,” Ezor noted. “You good to get to work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I could always call Hunk.”

“Thought you two weren’t talking?”

Lance shrugged. “We’re on better terms; not great, and he probably won’t talk to me on my way in, but at least he’s not trying to blow up the casino or whatever.”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “So how was Keith?”

Lance looked out his window, crossing his arms. “Nothing special.”

 

* * *

 

Keith felt a bit awkward with Lotor at brunch—the man sure had seemed comfortable seeing him all tangled up with a local, a local he knew, at that.

They talked business, which was expected of any meeting between two sons of powerful men. Keith usually wasn’t the face of the Blade, and for good reason. He was temperamental to a fault, and that didn’t mesh well with delicate relationships between rival gangs.

Keith was more involved in the direct action side of things. Though he’d been adopted into the first family, he preferred being on the front lines, fighting and smuggling wherever it was needed. Shiro wasn’t a fan of his recklessness, hence their most recent fight, but Keith didn’t care. The others were fine with it, so why was Shiro so worried? He was good at what he did, and Shiro was good at diplomacy. It’s how their dynamic worked.

Despite all that, he was quite impressed with how much he wasn’t fucking up. He felt much less tense, not so quick to bite at any of Lotor’s wayward comments. Even as things progressed and it was clear that Keith wasn’t ready to agree to any of Lotor’s suggestions, he maintained composure.

When he saw Lance in the gardens, radiant in a low-cut, orange chemise and white shorts, his marks on display, he realized why he was so much less wound up.

“Hey man,” Lance smiled, holding out his hand. Keith took it, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You look gorgeous.”

Lance flushed, turning aside. “Did you miss me?”

“Every second,” he insisted. God. He was super gay, Keith noted to himself.

Lotor joined them, and Lance immediately sensed his displeasure. “I’m upset we won’t be working together in the future, Keith. I truly think an alliance would be best for both our businesses.”

“Yeah, well,” he frowned. “It’s not really my place to answer for the Blade. I can bring your ideas to the council, though, and get in touch.” He wasn’t even looking in Lotor’s direction, instead smiling at Lance.

Lance didn’t like the look on Lotor’s face. He was pissed, though strangers probably wouldn’t be able to tell. “You two can join me for drinks later. Perhaps after mulling it over, by then you’ll have changed your mind.” He eyed Lance significantly.

Lance tugged at Keith’s hand. “All this talk of business is boring. Keith, let’s enjoy the gardens, shall we?”

Keith looked at Lotor, extending his free hand to shake. “I’ll see you later tonight, then?”

“Of course,” he gave a firm shake. “Enjoy your time, gentlemen.” Turning, he swept from the public gardens to his own private sector.

“So,” Lance said. “How was meeting the Prince of the Galra Empire? A gaudy name for a gang, I always thought.”

“How do you know him?”

“I grew up here,” he explained. “Everyone knows Lotor. I’ve met him a few times since I like to party,” he laughed.

“You’re not bothered by… all this?”

“What?”

“The gang activity? It’s dangerous, you know.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, growing up here, you get used to it. Most of the real bad shit doesn’t go down on planet, anyway, so it’s hardly that noticeable. Oh, but look at me, am I betraying my roots by sleeping with a Blade?” he squeezed Keith’s hand, chuckling. “I never understood the rivalry, anyway. You’re all the same, all just trying to get by by smuggling guns and drugs—what’s the deal?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. Different ideologies. And the Empire practices some things that the Blade has never condoned.”

“Like what?”

“Sex trafficking, selling people like currency,” he shook his head. “It’s sick.”

Lance frowned. “I kinda thought all gangs did that.”

“Not at all! The Empire’s an outlier.”

“Well, business is booming, isn’t it?”

“There are a lot of sick people out there.”

Lance hummed. “What did Lotor want?”

“I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“Well, the Empire has numbers on us, there’s no doubting that. But, we have better weapons, better researchers and engineers with us; it helps that we don’t turn away non-Galra members, so we have a more diverse network of scientists on board.”

Lance tilted his head. “The Empire has non-Galra members, don’t they? I mean, Lotor’s only half galra, and his top generals are also only half.”

“Wait, really?” Keith frowned. How the hell would Lance know that?

Lance guessed the question on his mind and shrugged. “Like I said, I’m here a lot. You see things.”

Kinda weird… Keith mused. If he were feeling a bit more focused, he maybe would’ve been more suspicious. As it were, Lance suddenly pulled him forward and set his heart racing with a searing kiss. They parted only seconds later, and Keith had almost forgotten what they’d been talking about it.

“You’re staying here, aren’t you?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna head back to your place?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Lance felt blessed by the room service, the lavish suite Keith had booked, the cozy bed with its fine sheets. He snuggled deeper into the pillows, sighing.

Keith chuckled, sitting on top of the comforter beside him, himself looking blissed out from their last round of sex. "You good?" he asked.

“Mmhmm,” Lance responded. “Sleepy.”

“We can nap,” Keith said. “Still a few hours till we need to meet with Lotor.”

“You should enjoy the perks of the casino, though, while you’re here.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m sure I’ll come back to visit some other time.”

“Even though you’re a horrible clubber and gambler?”

“Hey, you know I won that bet! And, well, why would I club when you’re around?”

“What’s this?” he smiled. “Using me as an interplanetary booty-call? Trying to save some money on your hotel bill next time?”

Keith blushed. “No! It’s just… I don’t know. This was a nice trip.”

Lance fingers tangled in Keith’s hair, pulling him down for a soft kiss. “You’re sweet.” He said. “But, it’s not as if you’d be visiting so often. And I have work, I can’t just spend all day with you whenever you call me.”

“Well, what do you need? Money? I can help you—“

“I appreciate it, Keith, but I’m not one for acquiring debts. That’s gotten people into a lot of trouble in the past.” He sighed, pulling back.

Gods, Keith thought, that look was heart-wrenching. It was making him too sentimental. All he wanted to do was protect Lance from the world, hide him away and keep him happy.

“I mean, you don’t have to drop anything. I could just let you know when I’m coming, and if you’re free, maybe we could spend some time together? I could come to you, too.”

Risky risky risky, Lance chided. What was up with this mushy stuff? He didn’t need Keith coming back for cuddles, for quiznak's sake, but for the Empire.

“Lotor won’t be as inviting of you from now on,” Lance said. “I’ve seen it before. If you don’t take his deal… well, you may not be welcome to land a ship anywhere in this quadrant.”

“What?” he yelled. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I mean, you can’t have thought he’d take kindly to you rejecting him.”

“But… it’s not like we’re at war… saying no doesn’t even hurt him.”

“But you’re not helping him. To him, that makes you an enemy—well, or someone disposable.”

He growled. “What would he do if I came, then? Attack me? Risk all-out war with the Blade? We wouldn’t take that standing down.”

“I can’t say I understand the way he thinks,” Lance lied. “Maybe if you tell me what it is he wants.”

“It’s actually a lot. Are you familiar with the Canal Route?”

Lance had heard Lotor whining about it before, but he couldn’t quite recall the details. “It’s some trader’s passageway, right?”

“Yeah, it cuts trips between the Huntera and Pluth sectors down to _two minutes_.”

“Is that… impressive?”

“The pass is tens of thousands of lightyears long, so yeah.”

“Oh, shit. How’s that work?”

“Some weird quintessence field simulates the warp jump of Altean ships, but it’s only between two constant points in the universe rather than wherever the caster chooses.”

Lance had always thought it unfair that only Alteans had that natural capability. Galrans had learned to mimic it in their tech much later, but Altea had always been ahead of the game in that regard. “So what about this canal?”

“Right now, it’s neutral territory. Under protection of the United Galactic Forces, but they’ll let people through for a fee, smugglers for a larger fee. They don’t seem to mind to much so long as they can make a profit.

“But, Lotor wants to team up with us to take that canal, to then monitor it ourselves and charge outsiders more for the pass, while Blade and Empire ships pass for free.” He shook his head. “Like I said, we’re not about to stand by and let the Empire smuggle slaves while turning a blind eye. Besides, taking control of it would require way too much manpower, and put too many people at risk.”

Lance frowned. That was ambitious, even for Lotor. How in quiznak would he convince Keith to throw all his morals out the window for such an outlandish plan? Usually when he was tasked with persuading any of Lotor's potential partners, it was for something far less dangerous. “And then the feds would be all on your asses, too. It makes much more sense just to take advantage of the current pathway, even if you have to pay some toll.”

“I think so too,” Keith scooted backward, leaning against the headboard. Lance shifted so he could rest his head on his lap, and Keith stroked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t help but think he has another motive.”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps he wants to offend me, to start a war between our groups.”

“That would be madness. You’ve been at an impasse for years,” Lance scoffed. “I’m sure Lotor’s perfectly content sitting on his little nest egg he’s built here.”

Keith grunted. “I should call my brother.”

“I thought he wasn’t supposed to know that you were here?”

“Well, maybe this'll earn me some buffer time so he'll be less likely to rip me a new one when I get back.”

Lance laughed. “You really think he’ll be so mad? Why’d you run off again? ‘Cause he didn’t like you playing soldier?”

“I’m not playing anything!” he snapped. “It’s better than sitting back and ordering people to their deaths like he’s become content to do.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, do preach about how it’s so much more noble that you're the executioner rather than the judge.”

“We’re not like that anymore. We only kill bad guys, and only when necessary,” he glared at Lance. “It’s just smuggling tech nowadays, not even drugs.”

Lance sat up. “Yes, ‘cause guns don’t make killing people any easier. I forgot.”

“What the hell, Lance? Where’s this coming from?”

“I just find it so fascinating what ruffles your gilded little feathers. How far you’ll go to make sure you can keep providing guns to gang-ridden neighborhoods for a few coins.”

“Oh, so ‘cause I’m rich I don’t have problems? Well, what problems do you have? I have countless lives to look out for. It seems all you’re ever concerned with is finding someone to fuck every night.”

“You don’t know me!” Lance sat up. “So fuck you, first of all. Second of all, fuck off!” He turned in the bed, stepping onto the cushioned floor. “But whatever, do what you want. You won’t take the deal and you can go on with your super important job far away from me.” He walked toward his clothes, bending over to pick up his shorts, slipping them over his underwear.

“Lance…” Keith hopped off the bed, standing in front of him. “Stop, I’m sorry, okay? I was out of line.”

Lance turned, reaching for his shirt. Keith took his hands, pressing them to his lips.

“Please just stay?” Keith asked.

“Why? We should just cut ties, shouldn’t we? I mean, you’ll be gone tomorrow and I’ll never see you again. What’s your deal?”

“God, you drive me crazy!” Keith fell to his knees, gazing up at Lance with desperate, pleading eyes. “I know I’m not a great person, I don’t do good things. But, that’s my family, you know? And I’ll defend them till the day I die.

“I wasn’t always with them. I was an orphan, living alone on Earth for so, so long. I was angry, and bitter, and resentful toward everyone. But, then I met Shiro, and he was my first friend. My brother. He brought me into his family, and it was so big, everyone so loyal to each other—I’d never had anything like that. When he adopted me as his brother, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him—for all of them.

“And I want to see you again, I do, but I can’t betray my family like that. Do you understand?”

Lotor was literally going to kill him, Lance thought. He’d failed him, failed something so vital to Lotor’s vision. He was going to die they second Keith told Lotor no. Would Lotor kill him right then and there? Make Keith watch? He wouldn’t put it past him.

He gave a heaving sob, and Keith just stared, not sure what to do. “Lance? What’s wrong?”

God, Keith looked so caring, as if he cared for him beyond just his body. He fell, throwing his arms around Keith’s back and sobbing into the crook of his neck. Keith brought his arms up, patting his back.

“It’s okay, Lance. Tell me what’s wrong.” Keith’s heart was racing—why was Lance so distraught? Surely he didn’t care about him so much as to cry over him leaving.

What was wrong? Lance thought to himself. That he was going to die? That he wanted to be selfish and try to make Keith take the deal by promising something deeper than he’d ever let himself experience? That a part of him thought that death might be better than this shit life he’d stumbled into? That he was gonna die, either that day or soon, with his best friend no longer talking to him, his family probably thinking he’d been killed by Zarkon years ago?

“Why are you crying, Lance?” Keith repeated. He really had no idea what to do. Suddenly, a thought came to mind. “Hey, listen to me.” Grabbing Lance’s shoulders, he gently pushed him back. “Look at me, please.” Lance obeyed. “What if… what if you came with me? I don’t have to take the deal, but you can just go back to the Blade with me. I know you have work, that you don’t like debts or whatever, but this wouldn’t be a debt… it would be a gift, I wouldn’t expect anything in return. You could leave for another planet, somewhere far away from all this, you and your plants.”

Lance stared, blinking. Keith thought that he might’ve done something, but then he fell forward and bellowed another heart-wrenching sob.

“Lance, please, I don’t understand,” Keith said. His own voice was wavering, Lance’s cries becoming harder and harder to resist. Finally, he too started crying. “Just let me help you, you idiot.”

And Lance was tempted, he truly was, but there was no way he could get away so easily. Lotor would find him, he knew, and he would take out his frustrations on Keith, on Keith’s family—hell, on Lance’s family; he’d certainly threatened it so many times in the past. What kind of person would he be if he let that happen to Keith? A kind-hearted stranger who saw him and just wanted to help?

He was tired of feeling so shitty, tired of this whole situation, of Lotor controlling how he could feel and think and act. He pressed a kiss to Keith’s neck, and felt the man shudder. He kissed up his throat, on his jaw, and then his lips. Surging forward, he pushed Keith onto his back, hands all over him.

“Lance,” he breathed. “Are you okay?”

“Can I just… can I have this, please?” Lance asked. He was no longer crying, but his eyes were still red, voice raw. He was looking at Keith like he was his last lifeline, like he had nothing left to live for but that moment.

Keith nodded, and Lance kissed him the way he was never kissed, with a tenderness and care and reverence. He touched him, too, like he’d always wanted to be touched, with only the intent to please and not to harm. And he loved him the way he’d never thought he’d love someone, and it was illogical, but here was this man who didn’t even know him but who wanted to give him the world, and he knew his fear of his impending death was probably clouding his judgment, but long after he first entered Keith, gentle and soothing, when he was nearing his end, he whispered those three deadly words in his ear. He heard Keith’s breath hitch and then came with a loud cry. Keith joined him in ecstasy only a few seconds later, and then they laid there for a minute, both trying to catch their breath and trying to decipher what had just happened.

Lance cleaned them up, and he held Keith like he’d only ever been held by his family, the people who loved him unconditionally. He pressed his face against Keith’s hair, committing the smell to memory—though he only had a few more hours to look back on it, didn’t he?

Keith didn’t ask questions, didn’t press him to talk. He simply let Lance take his time, take whatever it was he needed, not sure why it was him who apparently had something to offer. Lance fell asleep, and Keith turned. He saw just how wrecked Lance was, his makeup having been sweat off. His eyes boasted too-large bags, surely from his many late nights; his neck still marred because of him, and he was struck by guilt—why had he been so rough? What was he trying to prove? He’d told Keith that he was less than a year younger than him, and yet his face boasted worry lines. Keith poked at his creased brow, trying to even the skin as if that would rid him of his troubles.

He still had to make his call, so he snuck out of the bed, careful not to disturb Lance. After pressing a kiss to his cheek, he stepped onto the balcony and shut the door behind him.

Lance opened his eyes, groaning as he shifted in bed. He reached for the bedside table, finding what he needed in the drawer. Sitting up, he ripped a single sheet of paper from the notepad, and he wrote.

After he was satisfied, he folded up the letter and got off the bed. Keith’s bags were in the closet, so he made his way there. He didn’t want to place it anywhere too obvious, fearful that Keith might confront Lotor while he was still there. Nor did he want it to be too hidden, with Keith finding it weeks after, surely having already forgotten about Lance—perhaps it was his ego, but he wanted at least one person to remember him, to care that he had died.

He only hoped that Keith didn’t think it was his fault, Lance would never rest easy if he did. He tucked the note in a suit coat that looked brand new—given its quality, Lance wagered that Keith only wore it when forced to.

He showered and dressed, then reclined on the bed. He could see Keith’s silhouette through the balcony doors, the thin curtains hiding his true form from his view. Smiling, he fell into a peaceful slumber—surely his last.

 

* * *

 

They went to Lotor together, Lance strangely silent. Keith was trying to lighten the mood, talking about anything that came to mind—he told Lance that Shiro had been oddly forgiving, and was even proud of him for peacefully negotiating something for once. Lance gave weak smiles at the news, but otherwise had nothing to say.

Ezor was sitting at a desk in front of Lotor’s office, grinning when she saw Lance. On seeing his face, she could only stare in shock. She looked between him and Keith, clearly upset that she couldn’t say what she wanted to. Instead, she led them to Lotor’s office.

Lance sat with a more believable smile for Lotor’s benefit, accepting an offered wine glass with poise. Keith sat beside him, taking his hand in his. He honestly didn’t understand why Lotor had wanted Lance there, but he supposed Lance had proved himself knowledgeable enough of gang politics to not be seen as a complete hindrance.

“Did you enjoy the rest of your stay?” Lotor began pleasantly.

“Yes, the gardens were lovely,” Keith said.

“Did you have time to use any of the other facilities?”

“Er, no,” he confessed. “The rooms were perfectly sufficient for us—oh, though the food was perfect.”

Lotor smiled, a hollow look. “I’m glad. So, you’ve considered my offer?”

“Yes, I have. And, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m sorry, it’s just too risky an operation to fix a system that’s already working well. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, I do.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed of course, and I hope you don’t mind if I alter some of the details of your stay here.”

“Pardon?” Keith frowned. “I check out tomorrow, but, I suppose if you want me gone earlier—”

“Oh, no, that’s not the problem. It seems you’ve been partaking of one of our exclusive services, and I must decline any further use.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lotor turned to Lance, holding out a hand. “Lance, pet, looks like your work here is done. Come.”

Keith’s mouth gaped, watching as Lance stood, dropping his hand and taking Lotor’s instead.

“That’s a good boy,” Lotor pulled him down, forcing him onto his lap. “Now, give us a kiss—you know how I like it.”

Lance obeyed, face impassive. Lotor made a show of it, hands taking liberties where they shouldn’t, eyes open and watching Keith all the while. Eventually, he grabbed Lance by the jaw, forcing him backward. Lance winced at the treatment, but didn’t make a sound.

“See, I loaned you one of my favorites,” he cooed at Lance, squeezing his cheeks. “Out of the kindness of my heart. But, now that I see you’re not willing to make a deal, I’m afraid I’ll have to take him back.”

Keith looked at Lance, who refused to meet his eye. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you a half-wit as well as a half-breed?” Lotor rolled his eyes. “He is my property. A prostitute in this casino. A common whore who’s been sharing the beds of any of my clients who’ll have him, which is many.”

“But, why?”

“Because people are much easier to deal with when they’re satisfied by someone as talented as him—you felt more relaxed, didn’t you? He can also be plenty persuasive when he wants to be, though not in this case, I suppose.”

“This is wrong! You can’t do that to him! You have to let him go!”

“Actually, I don’t. See, on this planet, there are certain contracts that bind slave and owner. Lance signed one such document years ago: ten years of service to pay back my father’s loan—it’s so sad really, his brother was shot by some gang member in a dangerous neighborhood, his sister too. They both fought hard to survive, they really did, but the months of medical expenses, why, that sent his mother into a fit, and she’s been in an institute ever since. His father? Killed himself, when Lance was only fourteen, leaving him to pay all those bills and to raise two younger siblings. Despite it all, the two in the hospital died, so Lance had no one to help him out in the end. It was the natural course for one like him. We see such sob stories on this planet all the time.”

Keith was openly staring at Lance, who still looked completely dead to the world. “You… you used me?” he asked.

“Played you like a fiddle, didn’t he? He’s my best, so I’m not surprised. He really makes you want to open up to him doesn’t he?”

Keith rose, fists clenched. The words were starting to catch up to him, and he could feel his blood surging through his body. “So you were only sent to get me to sign this deal? To make me more vulnerable?”

Lanced nodded.

“You said you loved me!” he yelled.

Lotor laughed at that. “Really, Lance, that’s a little cold, even for you. Breaking people’s hearts isn’t part of the job.”

He didn’t break his heart, Keith knew, but hearing the truth was painful to say the least. “All your talk of morals, and you’re nothing more than… than this?” he hissed. Lance cowered back.

“Kei—“ Lotor clamped a hand over his mouth.

“The adults are busy, Lance. You don’t have permission to speak. Understand?” Lance nodded meekly.

“You sicken me,” Keith said. “I should’ve seen it, you were so quick to fall into bed.” Lance didn’t seem to hear him. “Are we done here, Lotor?”

“Of course. I apologize dearly for how things took a turn, but it’s only business.”

Keith nodded. He fought the urge to look Lance in the eye, afraid that he’d betray his true feelings, that Lotor would notice, too.

“Have fun with that trash,” Keith scoffed, turning to leave.

Lotor laughed. “I always do,” he purred. Keith didn’t look back for fear of doing something he would regret.

He walked to his room, seething but maintaining the necessary façade so that no guards would suspect him of anything. He quickly tossed all his belongings into his bag, sending a message to the Blade’s central command over an encrypted channel. He got his ship from the valet and raced from the surface, coasting around the planet before using its gravity field to propel himself toward the designated meeting point.

They had an idiot to save.

His idiot.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke, which was in and of itself quite the surprise. Everything was bright, too white to be natural. He closed his eyes, the light too much. When he reopened them, he saw his mama, beautiful as ever as she looked down at him.

“You’re going to burn, mijito,” she laughed. Beside her, his father was struggling to figure out his phone camera.

“There’s sunscreen in the bag,” he rummaged around for it before handing it to her.

“Gracias, corazón.” Lance tried to run, but she was quicker. She took him up in her arms and spun him around.

“No!” he squealed. “I want to be tan like papa!” She laughed.

“You got some of my coloring in you, hijo, you’ll never be as tan as papa without a sunburn, which is not good for your skin. Especially not this sun,” she remarked. “Once I put it on you can swim.”

Lance was hesitant to go back in the water. Last time he’d been at the beach, he’d nearly been ripped away by a hidden tide. His older brother and sister had dared him to go out, farther and farther, and he fell under. He only survived because he remembered how to handle those types of things from school, but when he surfaced he was too tired to get back to the shore.

Roberto, the oldest and the one he looked up to the most, had come out to rescue him, apologizing again and again for putting him in danger. They never told their parents about it, and Lance wouldn’t so much as set foot in the water from then on, despite how much he’d loved it before.

He was thirteen that last time his family had gone to the beach together, when he’d refused to go in much to his parents' confusion. The youngest, Camila, wanted to play with him in the shallows, but he wouldn’t. She’d cried, and they decided to head home.

They had a sturdy ship, the mini-van of space pods given their large family. It chugged along in the lower lanes, faster ships zipping by overhead.

Halfway home, they had to stop for fuel, both for the kids as well as for the ship. Roberto and Daniela stayed outside while the rest headed in, the younger kids needing to use the bathroom. While his mom was paying, Lance looked up. There were some people approaching their car, and he frowned. Roberto stood in front of Daniela, holding out his hand.

A shot cut through the air; two; three. The attendant screamed, and his parents looked outside. The shooter ran—was he trying to rob the store? The car? They never found out.

Lance went to the beach four more times, but he never set foot in the water. His father, a beach bum at heart but a fisherman by trade, wanted his ashes scattered at the beach near his hometown; Lance had saved up for weeks to have enough for the bus fare, the urn watching over their household like a specter. He’d wanted his mother to come, but she wasn’t with them very often those days.

Daniela went next, and he knew just where to spread her ashes, on her favorite cliff overlooking their usual beach. Her old girlfriend came with him then, telling him that the first time they made love was in that spot. He didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded beautiful.

Then there was Roberto. His favorite—though he’d never say that aloud. He paddled out on his surfboard as far as he could, waiting for a wave to come. It wasn’t surfing season, so the waves barely crested into anything surfable. Still, a decent one came just at sunset, and Lance paddled along the back of it, spreading ashes behind him.

Finally, he visited the beach before he left for his new life. Camila and Rafa were there, crying for their big brother Alonso—after his father passed, they no longer called him Lance, since there was no more confusing the two. A car came to pick him up that night, and he waved back to them—they were sobbing, but it was fine, he said, they wouldn’t have to be like him, they’d be safe.

He wasn’t at Lotor’s casino in the beginning, they had to train him and the others. He’d told them his name with pride, but they tutted at the foreign-sounding name. When he said he also went by Lance, that became his identity.

The images passed and faded, years passing by in seconds while some moments hit him like several eternities.

He wanted to throw up, but he didn’t even know where his mouth was—where he was? His back hurt. Sitting up, he winced. No to that, then. Why the hell was it so bright?

Bright, white, crisp, paper, and ink.

He wondered if Keith found the letter.

Keith, what an idiot, he laughed—he couldn’t find his ears.

He was probably concussed, he reasoned. He winced; reasoning was painful.

He’d been concussed before. Lotor had a temper. His desk was particularly concussion-inducing, he remembered.

That’s right, he vaguely remembered looking down at the desk, a puddle of red below his head and slowly expanding as red paint fell on it.

Why would Lotor paint it red? It was a lovely deep brown, wasn’t that enough?

He glanced up, catching sight of someone in a picture—but they were moving. It kind of looked like him, but the face was much too red. Red on brown, just like the desk. What was up with Lotor and these color choices in his décor?

Was he remembering, or was it happening? It almost felt live, but fuzzy, like when there was a storm and their TV started sputtering out. Those were fun nights, though, he’d build forts with his siblings and play board games by flashlight, till Daniela and Roberta would come and topple over their hard work.

White again, what was that? It was in the picture, behind him, moving quickly. Long and flowy.

Hair, white hair.

He almost snickered. How old was Lotor anyway?

He blinked—wait, he could see again. He recognized the spot immediately as one of Lotor’s rooms in his penthouse. He looked down, where was his body?

Oh, under the blanket.

It was warm.

A door slammed open, and his body knew it would be better to sleep. So he slept.

 

* * *

 

Keith didn’t even explain the situation further than his initial message, he simply landed at central command, demanded a small fleet as well as the most capable fighter pilots present, and turned around. His friend, Pidge, was his copilot, though she wasn’t actually doing anything.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “Any snacks in here?”

He grunted, trying to remember. “Check my suitcase—I think when I got to the hotel I threw all the snacks the room offered in there.

She nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt to root around his bag. “So, care to give me more details? You’re kinda freaking everyone out.”

“Lotor has someone. We’re going to save him.”

“A regular knight in shining armor,” she rolled her eyes. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name's Lance.”

She tilted her head. “Sounds familiar. On that weird moonless planet?”

“Yeah.”

“My good friend Hunk lives there. He used to have a friend named Lance. Maybe it’s the same guy?”

“It’s not a common name.”

“How’d you run away for two days and fall in love?”

“Did you get your damn snacks?”

“Ooh, peanut butter!” She grabbed the bag, dislodging some of the clothes that he’d stuffed on top haphazardly. A suit coat fell out, and she rushed to put it back, eager to get to her late dinner. As she grabbed the suit, the pocket made a crinkling sound.

She had an inquisitive nature, it was kind of her thing, so she did what she did best: snooped.

There was a folded piece of paper, blank. Turning it over, it was addressed to Keith. Even she had her limits when it came to privacy, and she knew this note wasn’t for her.

“Keith, I found something you need to see.” She stood to his side, and he turned to look at her. On seeing the note, he snatched it up, unfolding it in seconds. She sat, actually taking up controls since Keith was busy.

His fingers clenched around the paper, jaw strained. A minute passed before he spoke. “I’m going to give you some coordinates. Send a cruiser to each spot.”

“What’s up?”

“He knew. He knew that Lotor would kill him because of me… it’s my fault,” he said, pointedly ignoring Lance’s plea that he ‘not blame himself’. “And Lotor may kill his family, his friends, too. That’s why he wouldn’t leave with me. He couldn’t.”

“Coordinates?”

He read off the note, and Pidge entered them, relaying them to three ships. “That second one… that’s Hunk’s place.”

“Guess it’s the same Lance, then.”

“Alonso,” she amended.

“What?”

“It’s his name, if I remember. Hunk was always so worried about him. He went away a while ago, without saying goodbye. Hunk saw him in the city, though, guess he wasn’t in a good way.”

Keith’s fists tightened around his controls. “I’m going to kill Lotor.”

“No you’re not,” a stern voice sounded over his ship’s speaker.

“Shiro,” Keith snarled. “You can’t just eavesdrop like that.”

“You can’t just start a war like that,” he countered. “Killing Lotor is not an option.”

“But Lance isn’t the only one like this! Lotor’s a monster!”

He shook his head. “It’s not the time. You’re only lucky Thace isn’t here to stop your ass from this reckless rescue mission.”

He fiddled with his dash, trying to find a way to turn Shiro’s voice off.

“Hey, I hear you! What are you—“ Pidge found the switch first.

 

* * *

 

Lance felt even shittier than usual, like he’d just been beaten and raped and treated like a dog for the past six years.

Oh, right, that’s what had happened.

Ha.

But, in that moment, he also felt warm. It was nice. He could open his eyes—he was alone.

His body wasn’t even hidden beneath a blanket anymore! He wriggled his toes, rattling the chains around his ankles.

That was... new?

Looking down, he once again was confronted with those three colors: white, brown, red. Oh, no, there was some blue and purple too. It would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t a picture painted on his abdomen. He tried to touch the bruises—were they pushy bruises? He had four siblings, so it was a natural instinct to push anyone’s bruise, wasn’t it?

He’d had.

Ha.

His arm wouldn’t move, and his wrists were freezing. Where it was red on his body, he was so warm, but anywhere else was cold. It was like he was a heat map or something. That was a thing, right?

He waited, very bored. He wanted to sleep, but his concussed brain told him that was a bad idea. He told his concussed brain to suck a dick, and it told him it wasn’t into that. He apologized for the crude remark, his mama would’ve washed his mouth with soap for that. His concussed brain forgave him—so kind, truly, he was blessed.

He fell asleep anyway, but then woke to see an angel—no a devil, with black, pointy wings and wild, violet eyes.

“Lance!” it said. “Wake up!”

He glared at it. “Five more minutes,” he turned.

The devil laughed, reaching for his chains. “Stay with me, Lance, we’re gonna get you out of here. Gonna make sure your family is safe too.”

“Ow,” he said when his arms fell, the blood rushing to his fingertips. “Fat fingers.”

“What?”

“His body’s shut down,” a calm voice said. Lance turned. White hair.

He flailed his arms toward the face, but he was quickly restrained.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Trauma will do that. He’s been through a lot. It’s been… two days here.”

The devil cursed. “Will he be okay?”

“With time.”

“Who are you? And what kind of hairstyle is that?” Lance squinted. He was being carried, tucked against someone’s chest. “Be careful," he warned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Paint,” he touched his stomach, pulling his hand away to see red. He cupped the other man’s face, leaving a red handprint behind. “You look good in red.”

“Lance,” his voice was wavering. They’d stopped.

No, they were in a ship. He turned.

“Keith?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Keith Kogane, the boy who doesn’t know how to party?”

“That’s me.”

“Did I die?”

“No.”

“Am I going to die?”

“Not on my watch.”

“Oh, am I sitting on your watch?” he shifted. “That’s my bad.”

He choked on his laugh, it was watery. “Lance, you need to save your energy.”

“I can’t sleep. I’m concussed. I already slept too much.”

“He may be right.”

“Was that God?”

“No, that was Pidge.”

“I am God,” the voice sounded.

“We’re close to getting you to a pod, Lance. Just hang on.”

He hummed, leaning against Keith’s chest. “Did you get my letter in time?”

“I was coming back before I read it. Pidge found it on our way.”

“I think I have nice handwriting.”

“It’s shit.”

He gasped. “Well sorry I didn’t get to finish school like _some people_.”

“Hunk says our fleet is holding back… the other guys well,” Pidge noted. “The planet’s ours. Thace is going to be pissed, but maybe proud, too? Only time will tell.”

“Keith,” Lance said.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m sorry I have bad handwriting.”

He chuckled. “You can work on it.”

“I have to work.”

“Not anymore.”

“So this is heaven,” he sighed. “Keith?”

"Yeah?"

“Can you take me to the beach? Can you spread my ashes there? Con mi papa y mis hermanos?”

“I’ll take you to the beach, all of you. Alive.”

“You know, I think I’m ready.”

“For what?”

“To swim again,” he smiled.

 

* * *

 

Coming out of the healing pod was simultaneously like nothing he’d ever felt before but also like everything he’d ever felt at once. Thankfully he didn’t hit the ground, as two familiar arms caught him.

“Lance,” Keith smiled through his tears. “You’re awake.”

He pushed against him. “Get off me, el diablo!” Keith looked hurt, and Lance’s eyes adjusted. “Oh, it's you, Keith.”

“Are you okay?”

“I feel heavy.”

“That’s what two weeks in a healing pod will do to you!” A cheery man remarked. Lance looked at him, then reached his arms toward the warmth that was Keith. He eagerly accepted him, cradling him close.

“Who this?”

“My name’s Coran! Royal advisor to the King of Altea.”

Lance looked at Keith. “We were far from our ship, and you were looking bad. Altea was closer, so we asked to dock to save you.”

“Begged was more like it,” Coran smiled. “But, it was good that you did. Any longer and I fear you may have died, Lance.”

He frowned. “I don’t remember a lot that happened.”

“It’s natural that you don’t. You went through some horrible traumas. While you’re here, I encourage you to take advantage of our psychiatric staff in addition to your physical examinations.”

He nodded. Things were coming back to him, slowly. Not the things after Keith left—his mind told him he wasn't ready, not yet—but the other important stuff from before the blur. “My family…”

“Your siblings and mother are being protected.”

“Hunk?”

“Hanging out with Pidge in R&D, catching up, and waiting for you to come to him whenever you’re ready.”

"My plants?"

"Uh... we can go back for them. I didn't know where you lived."

"Where  _we_ lived," he corrected. God, his head hurt. “What about Lotor?” the name wasn’t as heavy in his mouth as he’d thought it would be.

“Detained. Unfortunately, we were advised not to kill him,” he frowned. “But we captured him and he is now awaiting trial on Altea for breaking United Galactic human right’s laws.”

“What’d he do?”

“Slavery?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Your contract has been nulled and voided,” Coran said. “And a delegation from Altea is working to free the other staff members similarly. We understand of course that many of them were in similar situations to yours and thus will be in need of some protections, so we’re taking care that each individual receives the attention they deserve.”

“So it’s over? For good?”

“Yes,” Keith said confidently. “It is.”

“I can go home?”

“If that’s what you want, you can. I told you I’d take you anywhere.”

“Can you take me to some food?”

“Of course.” He looked to Coran. “What should I look out for for him?”

“Anything triggering should be avoided—from what Shiro told me, certain colors are especially not good for him," he passed him a small device, screen lit up. "These are the words he repeated often before we put him in the pod, so take note. And listen to him, whatever he needs. His head’s still healing too from the blows.”

“Got it. Thank you, Coran, for everything,” Keith said.

“I’m glad we could help. Hopefully this will spell good things for any future relationships between the Altean government and the Blade,” he nodded to them. Keith turned and led Lance through the door, taking him down a long, silver hallway. He peeked into the dining room first, making sure Shiro wasn’t around, then they entered. He set Lance at the table so he could grab them both a plate of food. He placed one platter in front of Lance, the other next to him, then laid out spoons. He sat next to Lance who eyed the food with distaste.

“The fuck is this?” he prodded the goo. “No room service on this ship?”

Keith chuckled. “Nothing as good as what you’re used to.”

“That was good room service,” he frowned. His lip quivered, and Keith already knew what was coming. He caught him as he slumped forward, crying into his shirt.

“It’s okay, Lance. I’m here.”

“I was so scared!” he hiccupped. “I was gonna die! I… I still—what if he comes for me? For you? I couldn’t do that to you! I wanted to run!”

“I know, I know. You risked everything for me.”

“I’m sorry I said I loved you,” he said, sniffling. “It was the death getting to me. We’d only known each other a day. And I was deceiving you the whole time.”

“It’s okay,” he rubbed circled on his back. “I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say, okay? I wasn’t the best to you, and I’m sorry. I pushed you, I hurt you.”

“I egged you on,” he insisted. “It’s what I was taught to do.”

“Lance,” he said. “I’m not sorry that you said that you loved me.”

He shook his head. “But I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, there was so much going on at the time, I get it,” he pushed Lance back, tucking his hair back at his temple. “But I’m not sorry, because it helped me realize that I love you.”

Lance laughed. “What?”

“It’s true.”

“I’m broken, why would you ever?”

“You’re not broken, Lance.”

“There’s so much wrong with me, I’ll be dealing with this forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“I honestly don’t know you. I don’t love you.”

“That’s fine.”

“What if I never love you?”

“As long as you’re happy.”

He grinned. “You make no sense.”

Keith kissed him, long and deep.

Lance couldn’t breathe, not till Keith pulled away, and even then he was struggling. Keith was looking at him the way he’d always wanted someone to look at him. The way that Lance had looked at Keith when he’d lied to his face.

Loved. Whole. Worthy. Him.

He rested his forehead against Keith’s. “So, this is awkward.”

“What?”

“I may have lied.”

“What’s up?”

He looked up, connecting their lips once more. “Just now. I said I don’t love you. That’s not true.”

Keith laughed. “That’s a roundabout way of saying I love you.”

Another kiss. “Te amo, corazon.”

Keith pulled him in for a hug, crushing, insistent. Lance melted into it, feeling grounded for the first time in years. It felt like his mom’s hugs, it felt like love.

It felt like home.

 


End file.
